


Nothing anymore will do me any good

by sternflammenden



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Canonical Character Death, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-07
Updated: 2011-12-07
Packaged: 2017-10-27 00:56:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 712
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/289805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sternflammenden/pseuds/sternflammenden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the <a href="http://gotexchange-mod.livejournal.com/829.html">got_exchange Comment Fic Meme.</a>  Prompt was basically <i>Tywin/Kevan, anything goes.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Nothing anymore will do me any good

Kevan isn’t sure how to react when he sees his older brother in his cups. Tywin’s always been the backbone of the family, the utter definition of the word “control,” and when he encounters him in his solar, an empty bottle of arbor wine at his elbow, he feels an unease that he’s never known. When their father had proved utterly useless, it was always Tywin, Tywin who’d taken control, Tywin who’d brokered their marriages, Tywin, who’d settled disputes, who’d always made things right.

As he approaches the desk, Kevan’s not sure if Tywin’s asleep or just mired in his misery. Joanna’s death had, of course, been a shock to all of them, and the hideous circumstances were, at the very least, heartbreaking. When the news had reached her husband, he’d not reacted, merely nodding, his face stone, and shaking his head when asked if he wanted to see the child. His breath is ragged, and aside from the hitching of his chest, his body is completely still. Kevan tentatively places a hand on his brother’s shoulder, and when he receives no response, shakes him gently.

Tywin starts, but his reflexes are unsteady. Kevan thinks to himself, astonished, _I never thought to see him drunk, especially not after Father…_ But from his unfocused eyes and overly cautious movements, it is obvious.

“You should go to bed.” After all, he worries for him. Tywin’s eyes are red; it’s obvious that he hasn’t slept in days, not since the Maester offered his sympathies. His brother does not answer, but stares blankly, unmoving. When Kevan decides to help matters along, sliding his arm under his brother’s and pulling him from his seat, he permits it, allowing him to lead him across the room to the small cot in the corner. Many the night had come and gone when he was so mired in matters of the house that he must snatch small moments of respite when he could, and the room is still set up as such.

When he reclines, Kevan feels as though he should say something, now that they are face-to-face. Any words will be useless, he realizes, but he feels the need to make a gesture, any gesture. It would be unfeeling to do less.

“I’m sorry,” he says, the words inadequate, he knows. Tywin does not respond. Kevan places a hand on his shoulder, and just the very action is awkward. “I know how much you loved her. Joanna was –” He pauses, as Tywin’s gaze tightens, focuses, and becomes baleful.

“She was mine.” His voice is rough, made so by days of utter silence and drink. “She was…indescribable.”

Kevan nods in agreement. Tywin grasps his hand, squeezing it so tightly that his brother gasps in pain. “You do not quite understand what it is to lose someone you love,” he continues, face hardening. “Hopefully, it will be some time before you do, if ever. Count yourself lucky if you never experience it.”

He tightens his grip, pulling his brother close, until they are within an inch of each other.

“I am truly sorry,” Kevan says, dropping the platitudes, knowing that they are worthless, in the end, in the face of his brother’s true grief. Tywin’s face softens a bit, finally realizing that it is Kevan, his shadow, and not some well-meaning fool.

“I know that you are,” he says, his voice even. He releases Kevan, putting a hand on his brother’s shoulder. “She was my partner, you know, my equal, almost.” He closes his eyes then, tightly. “There are times now when I forget that she is gone, and I expect that I will turn and find her occupied with some household matter.” He trails off, and his younger brother sighs, knowing that nothing will be right as it once was.

“You should rest,” Kevan says, feeling useless, and knowing that this is another of those platitudes that one always says at such a time. “It would do you good.”

“Nothing anymore will do me any good,” Tywin responds, but he obeys, visibly relaxing. His hand releases Kevan’s shoulder, and moves to his cheek, caressing the rough beard that grows there. It then falls to Tywin’s side, and his breathing slows, becomes heavier.

Kevan stands above him, watching, for hours.


End file.
